The Copper Promise

by Jen Williams

  ‘Do you need a hand getting out of that?’

  ‘I’ll manage.’

  And with that he crouched and went into his own tent.

  Wydrin sighed. She glanced up at the birds, who were watching her with black liquid eyes.

  ‘And you can take that look off your beaky faces.’

  Inside, the tent was narrow and cosy, with a thick carpet of blankets that smelled only slightly of horse, and long strings of prayer beads hung from the ceiling. A small spherical lamp sat in one corner on top of a block of wood, the only piece of furniture in the tiny room. Wydrin unbuckled her own leathers, noticing as she did so that the light from the neighbouring tents cast soft shadows onto the fabric walls. She could see the outline of Frith, sitting up with what was probably a map spread across his knees, and on the other side was Sebastian’s huge bulk, already lying down and preparing for sleep. It was a strange inn, she thought, where the only privacy was a sheet of crimson silk.

  Wriggling beneath the blankets, she stared up at the prayer beads. They were carved to represent animals – a fox, a cow, a bear, a bird. One of them, she noticed, was a shark, so she leaned up out of the blankets to touch it with her fingertips. After all, she’d done little to earn the love of the Graces lately and they needed all the luck they could get.

  67

  Wydrin woke a few hours later to a cold blade pressed to her throat. It was dark, the little lamp having burned out a long time ago, and there was only a faint red glow from a distant tent to show the face leering above her. Roki’s skin was waxy and slick with sweat, and strands of his golden hair were stuck to his forehead.

  ‘Good evening.’ His voice was quiet, less than a whisper, as though it were coming from very far away. ‘You are almost pretty when you’re asleep, did you know that?’

  Wydrin cringed at the wave of revulsion that passed through her. How long had he been here in the dark, just watching?

  ‘Whereas you look half dead.’

  Roki bared his teeth in something that might have been a grin.

  ‘I feel more alive than I ever have.’

  ‘You can’t be anywhere near us now. We flew across seas, across Litvania. Nothing could follow us. How are you here?’

  The metal was cold at her throat, and all too real.

  ‘Last time I saw you, you told me to bring a blade,’ he said, ignoring her question. ‘So here I am. Tell me, do you like it?’

  He increased the pressure, the edge just beginning to bite into her skin. Wydrin suddenly found it very hard to swallow.

  ‘It’s a pretty sword,’ she said, trying to keep her voice steady. ‘Almost as pretty as you and your brother. Although I reckon Enri has lost some of his looks to the worms by now.’

  Roki snorted, spraying saliva through his teeth. Wydrin saw the drops of moisture but didn’t feel them land on her face. He was little more than a ghost – if only she could say the same for his blade. The enchanted gauntlet glowed softly in the darkness, touching the walls of the tent with a sickly orange light. Slowly she inched her hand through the blankets towards her sword belt.

  ‘I will enjoy killing you,’ said Roki. ‘I will do it slowly, and by the end of it you will be begging to join my brother in the ground.’

  ‘You do everything slowly, Roki. It’s very boring. How are you here? Where are you really?’

  ‘I have made certain … sacrifices.’ Roki’s grin widened, and for a moment Wydrin felt real fear make a grasp for her heart. There wasn’t a scrap of sanity in that smile. ‘You made it easy, really.’ He held up the stump in front of her face. ‘Bezcavar rewards those willing to shed blood in his name, even when it’s your own blood. I can find you, wherever you are. I can come to you when you are resting, sleeping, when you think you are safe.’

  Wydrin’s questing fingers closed around the hilt of Glassheart.

  ‘Making a deal with a demon doesn’t sound like a very clever idea to me. Not the move of an intelligent man. Why am I not surprised? Sebastian!’

  Roki jumped at her sudden shout, and glanced towards the tent wall as Sebastian sat up, his shape shadowed against the fabric. It was enough for Wydrin to get her free hand under the blade and push it firmly away from her throat. There was a sting as the sword cut into her fingers but then she was standing with Glassheart held out in front of her, keeping Roki’s weapon at bay.

  ‘What’s going on?’ Sebastian was rising and already she could hear Frith complaining in the tent on the other side. Roki scrambled back towards the entrance to the tent.

  ‘I’ll come back for you, little girl,’ he said. Wydrin flew forward, Glassheart flashing like steely death in the dark and she met his blade with tremendous force, hoping to break it and render him harmless, but the sword held. There was a loud ripping noise from just behind her as Sebastian tore a long slash in the tent wall with his own sword.

  ‘Wydrin? What’s happening?’

  Lights were flickering on in adjacent tents, and in the soft red glow she could see a smear of her own blood along the edge of Roki’s blade. Suddenly furious, she surged forward with a flurry of blows, pushing the last of the Children of the Fog to the front of the tent, where he staggered out into the night. She followed, bellowing threats, even as somewhere in the cooler part of her head she knew very well she could no more harm him in this form than she could mould the clouds with her hands.

  ‘That’s the way, little kitten,’ he called softly as he blocked one shattering blow after another. ‘Show me everything you have.’

  Wydrin became aware that the others had come out of their tents and were standing behind her, so she paused in her onslaught and took a few swift steps backwards, trying to get her breath back, to regain some control. Sebastian appeared at her elbow dressed only in a vest and a long pair of undertrousers that came down to his knees. As he stepped into the light Roki’s grin only widened.

  ‘You as well? This is quite the reunion!’

  ‘Do you know where Fane is?’ Frith was pulling his bearskin cloak over his shoulders. Despite her anger, Wydrin took a moment to notice the taut muscles on his narrow waist. ‘Or the Lady Bethan? What of her whereabouts?’

  Roki laughed, his voice as shrill as the wind. He waved his sword at them as though it were a tankard of ale and Frith had just made a particularly good joke.

  ‘Fane? The man who left me for dead in that piss-soaked little town? I would sooner cut off my other arm than—’

  All at once his ravings dried up. Ip, ghostly and slight under the white lamps, stepped in front of Sebastian. Roki’s mouth dropped open in surprise.

  ‘You!’ He looked from the little girl to Sebastian and back again. ‘But how can you …? I don’t understand …’

  Ip tipped her head to one side, the gesture of a child contemplating which leg to pull off the spider next. Roki stumbled backwards, appeared to be about to say something else, and then vanished.

  For a few heartbeats there was silence, before everyone started talking at once.

  ‘Who the hell was that?’

  ‘I thought we killed him in Pinehold!’

  ‘Is he close? The power of the armour—’

  Wydrin held up her hands for silence. A stiff breeze blew in off the lake, and quite suddenly she was very aware that most of her clothes were still in the tent.

  ‘Yes, that was Roki, and no, I do not believe that he is nearby. He has traded with the demon that made his gauntlet to increase its powers, somehow, to enhance its range.’ She waved her hands impatiently as this only provoked more questions. ‘What I want to know is, why was he so scared of this little shrimp?’ She pointed at Ip, who twirled on the spot and yawned hugely. ‘Well?’

  ‘I don’t know, do I?’ she replied. ‘Can I go back to bed now?’

  ‘It’s time you left our company, I think.’

  Sebastian knelt so that he was face to face with Ip. The owner of the tents hadn’t been best pleased with the hole they’d left in his silks so they’d been encouraged t
o leave. At knife point. Now the others were trawling the markets for provisions, and he and Ip stood at the back of a small audience watching a mummers’ show. Periodically children would come round with hats, begging for coins.

  ‘You can’t leave me here,’ said Ip. Her voice was utterly flat. ‘I’m just a child.’

  ‘Really? Is that why Roki, a hardened assassin, near wet his britches at the sight of you? We both know what you are.’

  The girl blinked, and her eyes were blood-red once more.

  ‘Can you really do that, good sir knight? Ip is my priestess, true, but when I am not here she is still a child. One that has had a hard life. And you, the only person to show her a modicum of kindness, is to abandon her?’

  Sebastian stood up.

  ‘I’ve spoken to the mummers’ company already. They’re always looking for new blood to train up. They’ll feed you, and get you some proper shoes. It’ll be safer than travelling with a bunch of adventurers.’

  Ip reached out and took hold of his hand. For a moment Sebastian felt his resolve waver. She was so young, under it all – but then the tiny hand gripped his fingers hard, digging in sharp nails. Ip bared her teeth at him.

  ‘You can’t escape me, Sir Sebastian, as much as you’d like to. You wear my armour, and your sword is sworn to me.’ She tightened her grip until Sebastian was sure she’d broken the skin. ‘You think that by leaving me here your friends won’t find out what you’ve done, but your soul is mine.’ She hissed the last, her face so contorted that she barely looked human, let alone a child. Suddenly it was quite easy to leave her behind.

  Sebastian shook her off.

  ‘I’m sorry, Ip, if you’re still in there. Truly, I am.’

  He called to a short fat man with ginger whiskers, who was watching the show from the sidelines. The man waddled over at a pace.

  ‘This is the girl, no?’

  ‘This is her, Zevranna,’ said Sebastian. ‘She has no family. If you could find a place for her I’d be eternally grateful.’

  ‘Oh, but she has spirit, this one, I can see it!’ Zevranna beamed at the child, while Sebastian cleared his throat.

  ‘You could say that.’

  ‘I see a great future for you, girl. You will be a star! Ip, wasn’t it?’

  ‘Yes,’ said Ip. Her eyes were back to their icy blue. ‘It was.’

  ‘Worry not, my friend.’ Zevranna patted Sebastian’s arm with a clammy hand. ‘I can see you are concerned for the child, because you have a good heart, but she will have a life few children can even dream of! Fame, fortune, the open road. It will be an adventure, no?’ He addressed this last to Ip, who was unmoved. ‘Come.’ He held out his plump hand, and after a moment she took it. ‘I will introduce you to our other children. It will be grand!’

  Sebastian watched them walk away. He expected Ip, or Bezcavar, to give him one last baleful look over the shoulder, but she never looked back. They disappeared into the crowd, who were roaring with laughter at the antics of the two men on stage. She would be better off, he told himself again. If they were to face Y’Ruen at the end of all this, then they didn’t need a child to look after too.

  Even so, he wasn’t sure who he felt most sorry for – Ip, or her new carers.

  They walked some distance from the settlement in the morning light, looking to put a reasonable amount of space between them and the tents before the griffins made their transformation. Wydrin stalked off in front, her shoulders hunched against the chill and her eyes on the ground. The cut on her right hand was sore but shallow, and she couldn’t bring herself to ask Frith for assistance with it. Instead she concentrated on the mild throb in her fingers and tried not to think about Roki’s face hanging over her in the dark, the cold bite of his blade … to be caught unawares, helpless … She kicked at a lump of dirt, sending it skittering across the grass.

  ‘How could you not tell me?’

  She glanced up to see that Sebastian had caught up with her.

  ‘We’d only just found you again.’ The plaintive tone of her own voice only served to make her angrier. ‘And how am I supposed to tell you anything when you piss off in the middle of the night and leave me stranded in a town with one stinking tavern?’

  ‘You told no one,’ Sebastian said. He was keeping his voice level, a tactic he always used in arguments and one that never failed to annoy the living piss out of her. ‘Roki could have attacked at any moment and you didn’t think that was worth mentioning?’

  Wydrin rounded on him, clenching her fists at her sides. The sharp pain of the cut was glorious, somehow. She welcomed it.

  ‘Roki is my problem. And what are you keeping from us, exactly?’ She nodded at Frith and Gallo following on behind. ‘Who was the kid? Or should I say, what is the kid? And where did you get that armour from? For years you only had bitterness for the Order but then you go running back to them, and they give you this armour.’ She took a step towards him and raised her chin. ‘I’m not buying it. And I’m no fan of brats but even I would question leaving a kid with a bunch of strangers.’

  ‘She’s better off with them. Our path is too dangerous …’

  She shook her head angrily, cutting him off.

  ‘What happened in Relios, Sebastian? Why were you the only one to survive?’

  Sebastian’s eyes were very wide; he looked lost, and it frightened her. A moment ago she’d been ready to land one on his jaw but now she reached out and touched his arm.

  ‘You can tell me, Seb,’ she said. ‘You’re my sworn brother, aren’t you? You can tell me anything.’

  For the briefest second she could see the shadow of the old Sebastian on his weathered face – kindness, weary patience, strength – and then it was gone. He shook her arm off brusquely.

  ‘Y’Ruen killed them all, and I was lucky. I found the girl wandering, half-starved.’ He pulled at his beard and looked away from her. ‘Just as I told you. Frith, get these griffins ready, we’ve come far enough.’

  Frith caught up with them, the trio of birds circling overhead. He seemed about to say something, then apparently thought the better of it. He gestured at the birds and the wind roared into life about their feet. They twisted and grew until the griffins once more stood on the grass, their regal heads like carved statues in the sunlight. Wydrin turned away from Sebastian and went to one of the animals. She patted the great creature’s powerful neck, taking in the exotic scent of the beast, seashells and orange blossom and sweat.

  ‘Let’s go,’ she said, not looking at any of them. ‘Let’s go to this blasted Rookery.’

  68

  When Frith had been a boy, his older brother Leon had passed on to him a set of wooden toys. Pieces of the Blackwood skilfully carved to look like castles, horses, knights and people to rescue – everything he could need to create his own kingdom to rule over. When he was older Leon showed him how to carve the wood himself, so that he could add to the collection, just as Leon had done. Aaron Frith had carved all the great heroes – Alynn the Wise, Roland of Phen, The Steadfast Seven – and added them to his kingdom, making it, in his opinion, the greatest in all of Ede. On quiet days he would take all the pieces and build his city on the rug beside the Great Stairs, and when it was done he would go to the top of the landing and look down, pretending he was a god watching his loyal subjects from the sky.

  Flying over the City of Verneh reminded him of this so strongly that for a moment he was dizzy; did he fly far above the world, or was he a child again, lost in that giant castle? He dragged his eyes back up to the mountains that loomed before them. He had been planning to pass the toys on to Tristan soon, he remembered. Well, he’d been thinking about it, at least. Tristan already had so many toys … Unbidden, a memory of his little brother came back to him; Tristan just learning to walk, patiently climbing his way up the stairs.

  I should have given them to him a long time ago, he thought. Should have done so many things.

  In truth, aside from that trick of perspective, Verneh looked
little like his wooden city. It was a sprawling place of white and yellow brick, lying between a wide river dotted with boats and a confusion of jagged mountains. Domes of green tile sprouted everywhere like elegant mushrooms. They called it, Frith remembered, the Silken City, because the surrounding forests contained giant silkworms, and it was said that even the poorest beggar in Verneh wore the finest clothes. Indeed, silk flags and banners of all colours flew from every roof, window and corner, bright and alive under the hot sun.

  ‘Nice place,’ said Wydrin. ‘You’d think O’rin would live here rather than the mountains.’

  ‘Just like him to be difficult.’

  Frith pressed his heels to the griffin’s sides and they took on a new burst of speed. He turned around to check that the other griffins were following. He saw Gallo leaning out to one side to watch where they were going, his skin grey under the sunlight, and Sebastian, his wild hair once more tamed in a braid. The griffins bowed their powerful heads and up they all went, leaving the city behind and climbing into thinner, colder air. Below them the lower reaches of the mountains were still covered in the thick foliage of the forest, but as they climbed higher the trees were fewer and fewer, until rocky fingers pushed through the ground, and they saw deep chasms and hidden caves. The air grew frigid, and soon Frith could see his breath in front of him in puffs of white vapour.

  ‘Look,’ said Wydrin, pointing. There was snow here too, stubborn white highlights left over from some winter storm, preserved by the chilly air. ‘This is a strange place, hot on one side and freezing on the other. What do you suppose the Rookery looks like?’

  ‘I suspect we’ll know it when we see it.’

  In the end, that was partially correct. They flew back and forth over the mountains, looking for a gabled palace or a golden longhall, but saw nothing save for rocks, ice and forbidding caverns. The griffins flitted back and forth, until eventually Wydrin nodded to the highest, most perilous peak. The central mountain rose from the others like the end of a broad sword, sheer sides tapering to a lethal point.