by Jon Skovron
“How droll,” said Empress Pysetcha. “Lord Pastinas, are you familiar with this folk slang?”
“It is the language of my youth, Your Majesty.” He took a large gulp of wine.
“You speak as someone who is no longer young, my lord. But unless my eyes deceive me, you can’t be more than twenty.”
“Youth and innocence are quickly lost where I come from, Your Majesty.” Red decided there was only one way to escape this needling from Merivale. To get out in front of it. “When one is raised in the slums of downtown New Laven.”
There was a moment of total silence at the table. Red could not read the empress’s expression at all, and he wondered if he had been just a bit too candid. He knew that on the whole, lacies didn’t like to be reminded of the poor and suffering. As the servants brought out the first of several courses, platters heaped with more food than he would have seen in a week as a boy, he understood that perhaps it was their own shame that troubled them. Under ordinary circumstances, he would have been pleased to deliver that experience to a sheltered lacy. But he didn’t want the empress to feel that way. Not just because it might cause problems for Leston or Nea. He found himself nearly as desperate for her approval as the prince. If he had upset the empress, he might well need to leave the table.
But then she smiled, and it was like the sun shining on him, only better because it didn’t hurt his eyes.
“Then what a clever and resourceful man my son has chosen for a friend, to come from such humble beginnings, all the way to the empress’s own dinner table.”
He returned her smile with a grateful one of his own. “There may have been more than my fair share of luck involved as well, Your Majesty.”
“Either way, you are welcome here,” said Empress Pysetcha. Then she turned her gaze to Nea. “I find it troubling that in our empire the few have so much and the many have so little. Is it a problem that plagues your country as well, Ambassador?”
“To some extent, Your Majesty,” said Nea. “Although we do not have such a rigid class system. All citizens are given equal opportunity to show their worth.”
“What a fascinating society it must be,” said the empress. “I should like to hear more about it another time. But right now, I am far more curious about the reason we owe the rare pleasure of your visit.”
“I come as a representative of the Great Congress of Aukbontar in hopes that after centuries of isolation, we might bridge the expanse of the Dark Sea with a mutually beneficial alliance between our peoples.”
“Very interesting,” said the empress. “And what is it, specifically, that you seek in this alliance?”
“Oh.” Nea looked taken aback. “Well…”
Red was surprised by the empress’s directness as well. He’d thought this dinner, and possibly the entire trip, would be nothing but charming pleasantries and idle small talk. But with that question, she had changed the entire tone of the conversation.
But Nea rallied quickly. “There are a great number of resources available to the empire that we in Aukbontar have little to no knowledge of.”
“Such as?” asked the empress. “If you could ask for only one thing in this treaty, what would it be?”
Nea seemed to weigh several options in her mind. Finally, she said, “A thorough understanding of both the theory and application of biomancery.”
Of all the things Red might have guessed, that had not been on the list. Red distinctly remembered Nea telling him that she believed biomancery to be superstitious lore. A quick look around the table told him he wasn’t alone in his confusion.
The empress, however, seemed unsurprised. “I see. And in exchange for this highly complex and sensitive knowledge, what are you prepared to offer?”
Nea hesitated for a moment, then gave her an embarrassed smile. “I apologize, Your Majesty. I thought this to be a social visit rather than a treaty negotiation, so I did not bring my full team and presentation materials. I fear mere words alone may not do it justice.”
The empress leaned across the table and patted Nea’s hand. “My dear ambassador, your original assumption was quite correct. This is a social visit. I am merely a curious woman who delights in learning new things. Although I urge you to do your utmost to help me understand, in spite of your lack of… materials. After all, I do believe my opinion does hold some small sway at court still?”
“Indeed it does, Your Majesty.” Merivale nodded to the six tables below them full of the finest lords and ladies of the land doing their best not to stare outright at the mother of the empire.
“It will be my pleasure, Your Majesty,” said Nea. “While we have no understanding of biomancery, how or why it even works, we have made great strides in other sciences far beyond what your empire has discovered. In particular, the steam-powered engine is something we believe you could make great use of.”
“Pray, what is this steam-powered engine?” asked the empress.
“It is a mechanical device with almost limitless application. It could power your wagons, your mills, your cannons, even your ships.”
“That’s how you crossed the Dark Sea,” Red blurted out. “Your ship was powered by one of those engines instead of the wind.”
Nea inclined her head to Red. “Yes, Lord Pastinas. The wind is unpredictable, particularly in the middle of that great ocean. Before the development of the steam engine, a trip across the Dark Sea was perilous, and ships were often lost. But now we can cross with confidence because we are no longer beholden to the elements.”
“So you would give us one of these steam engines?” asked the empress.
“Better than that, Your Majesty,” said Nea. “We are prepared to teach a team of your most capable subjects not only how to use a steam engine, but how to construct and repair them yourselves. As a show of good faith, I have brought one such engine with me, as well as a machinist to adapt, operate, and repair it as needed.” She gave her embarrassed smile again. “Both of which, unfortunately, are back at the palace.”
“Is that Drissa’s role in all this?” asked Leston. “Given her limited language abilities, I wondered.”
“She does struggle with learning your language,” admitted Nea. “But she is one of the most talented young machinists in Aukbontar.”
“You have an interesting proposal, Ambassador Omnipora,” said Empress Pysetcha. “An exchange not of goods, but of knowledge.”
Put that way, Red could understand why Nea was so reluctant to share other knowledge, such as the existence of the Haevanton Triumvirate, whatever that was. In this context, information was a high commodity. She could be withholding certain information not for some sinister plan, but merely as a smart business move. Perhaps she could use it to sweeten the pot later if the emperor was dragging his feet during negotiations.
“You put it perfectly, Your Majesty,” said Nea.
“Thank you for sharing this with me, Ambassador. I wish you the best of luck presenting it to my husband and his… advisors.” The empress took a sip of her wine, and for a moment there was a flicker of bitterness in her expression. It made Red suddenly curious about why the empress had chosen to remove herself from the palace. Perhaps she knew about the control that the biomancers had over her husband, and chose to give it a wide berth.
Another thing Red wondered about was why Nea’s Great Congress wanted to learn about biomancery. The very idea made his skin crawl. Maybe they didn’t really understand what they were asking for. If only he could show Nea the reality. That they weren’t just mysterious wizards or holy men, but people who twisted nature for their own power and gain, and were themselves twisted in the process.
“Well, that could have gone worse,” said Red later that night as he and Leston stood at the deck railing behind their apartments and gazed out at the starlit sea.
“True,” said the prince. “I wonder about Merivale, though. It’s as if she holds some animosity toward you for spurning her matrimonial advances.”
“You think?” Red said
dryly.
“I admit I’m a little disappointed in her. I thought she would be on better behavior for my mother.”
“I’m not so sure. It almost seemed as though your mom expected her to behave like that.” Red shrugged. “Either way, I handled it, and near as I can tell, everything is sunny between me and your mom.”
“Thankfully, it seems things are friendly between her and Nea as well.” A stupid grin slowly began to spread across his face. “Wasn’t she marvelous, the way she handled that unexpected pressure?”
Red let him bask for a minute. Then he said, “You know, Nea is here to make a treaty.”
“Of course.”
“You getting sotted with her only makes a complicated thing more complicated.”
“I don’t know what you mean.” The prince stood up from the rail, his face tense.
“Come on, Leston, don’t make me ‘Your Highness’ you into submission. We’re wags, you and me, so let’s speak crystal. It’s plain as day you’re sotted with her.”
The prince stood for a moment, then sank back to the railing. “Do you think she feels the same?”
“I think right now she can’t afford to,” Red said as gently as he could. “Her country is counting on her to do this thing. Politics isn’t so different from games, really, and I know right now she couldn’t let herself feel for you even if she wanted to, because you’re not on the same side. If she lets her feelings for you affect her, it could affect the treaty, too. What if she screwed it all up, gave us a better deal than she should have because she didn’t want to say no to you? Would you want her to go back to Aukbontar and have her Great Congress punish her? Would you want that for Nea?”
“Of course not!”
“So then ease off, my wag. At least for now. Maybe when it’s all settled, then you can start wooing her. Hells, I’ll even help you.”
“Will you?” Leston looked eager. “I’ve never felt this way about someone before, so I don’t really know what I’m doing.”
“You really don’t,” agreed Red.
“Hey!”
“Which is why I’m offering my own proven expertise in being a charming scoundrel. But only after the treaty is either signed or abandoned. Keen?”
Leston sighed. “You’re right, of course.” He put his hand on Red’s shoulder. “Thank you. You’re such a good friend to me. And to Nea.”
Red was pleased with how he’d handled the various courtly intrigues that had come at him that day, thinking he was really learning how to play this game. But now that everyone else had gone to their rooms and Etcher was already snoring softly in the bed next to him, it was finally time to test out his whistle and plugs.
First, to see if the whistle had any effect on him. He sat on top of his bed and reached into his pocket.
His chest gave a lurch. The whistle was gone.
He tried to remain calm as he checked the pocket carefully. There was a small hole in the corner that he hadn’t noticed before. The whistle must have fallen out somewhere. Maybe when he was helping Etcher put away all his research materials? He dropped to the floor and yanked out the cages. It hadn’t fallen into any of them. He crawled under the bed, but it wasn’t there either. He checked the wardrobe, shoving the canvases aside as panic began to coil up his spine.
“Lord Pastinas?” Etcher asked sleepily.
Red froze at the wardrobe.
“Is everything okay?”
Red forced himself to swallow. In as steady a voice as he could manage, he said, “Everything’s chum and larder, old pot. Just about to settle in for the night.”
Red reluctantly returned to his bed. He lay on his back, his eyes staring unseeingly up at the ceiling. The whistle could be anywhere, really. Merivale’s carriage, the prince’s carriage, somewhere along the way between his carriage and this room, or even in the dining room. It could have slipped out at any one of those places. Hells, it could have even fallen into the rolling tides while he’d been leaning over the rail, staring at the painful blaze of the setting sun. He certainly wouldn’t have seen or heard it fall then.
He still had the cotton plugs. He’d just have to pray that they worked. He held them tightly in his hands as he lay in bed. He couldn’t put them in yet, of course. He needed to be able to hear everything. Not even this “Shadow Demon” could be quiet enough to escape his attention. He allowed himself a brief, bitter smile as he thought about all those painful lessons with Ammon Set in honing his listening skills. The satisfaction of using the biomancers’ own training against them soothed some of his panic.
He was still tense, but he considered that a good thing. It would keep him alert while he kept his vigil.
However, this was the first time he’d slept so close to the water in a while. He’d forgotten how soothing it was to listen through the open window to the slow hiss of the waves sliding over the sand. The hours ticked by, and sometime around midnight, he drifted off.
A voice rose up in his mind, as if coming up to the surface from the bottom of dark, oily water. It whispered urgently, Nea Omnipora is a grave threat to the empire and must die!
He sat up and looked around. He was somewhere unfamiliar, yet as was often the way of dreams, he knew where to go. He couldn’t find his customary clothing, so he would have to go without. At least there were a few throwing blades in a small trunk. That was all he needed.
He slipped through a door into the chill night air. There were others around, he knew. But unless they interfered, he was not allowed to kill them yet. Just her.
He moved carefully, his bare feet making no noise on the smooth wooden deck. To his left was the ocean. To his right, the outer wall of a building of some kind. After a few strides, he came upon a door. There were no lights on inside, but he didn’t need lights. He saw the one he had been told he would never be allowed to kill.
He continued along the wall until he came to the next door. He peeked through the window and saw her, sleeping on a bed, secure in the belief that she was safe. No one was ever truly safe from death.
He slowly eased the door open and slipped into the room. He watched her blankets gently rise and fall with her chest. Her face looked sweet and innocent, but such details held little interest for him.
As he lifted a throwing blade, the steel glinted in the faint moonlight that spilled in through the window. He allowed himself a moment to appreciate its cold, perfect beauty. One flick of his wrist and this person would cease to be a grave threat to the empire. One more life taken by death.
Then a screeching noise ripped through the air. It felt like a large needle inserted into his ear. The floor beneath him spun so that he could not tell which way was up. He tried to move back and found himself slamming into the hard ground.
The sound continued to weigh on him as he lay there, like it was trying to crush him. His vision flickered in and out. The last thing he saw before he lost consciousness was the woman in the other bed. She blew on a tiny silver whistle, and in her eyes was a cold, steely look as deadly as any blade.
19
It’s true, I tell you,” said Brice Vaderton for probably the twentieth time. “Dire Bane has been reborn!”
“Right. As a woman no less,” said Kismet Pete, a tall, lanky man without any hair. He’d had a sickness as a boy that had made all the hair on his body, including his eyebrows and eyelashes, fall out, and it had never grown back.
Vaderton didn’t know why he even bothered to tell people anymore. No one ever believed him. Most of them didn’t even believe that, until recently, he had been the youngest captain ever to command an imperial frigate. He certainly didn’t look like an imperial captain anymore. His hair was shaggy and disheveled. His face was swollen and bruised from the beatings that small squad of imperial soldiers had given him during his lengthy interrogation. Vaderton had willingly told Progul Bon everything, but that hadn’t seemed to satisfy him. After the beatings, he’d even used some sort of biomancery to force Vaderton to tell the truth. He’d told the biomancer
his childhood fears, and about the girl he’d loved as a schoolboy and the child they’d accidentally conceived together. He’d even confessed his fear that his naval career was over. Progul Bon had laughed at that and told him it wasn’t just his career that was over, but his life as a free man as well. Then the biomancer left, and soon after, the soldiers had brought Vaderton here, to the Empty Cliffs.
“Look, Vade,” said Kismet Pete. “It’s not that I don’t want to believe you.” He and Vaderton sat with several other prisoners on the lee side of a boulder, sheltered from the wind that endlessly raked the top of the Empty Cliffs. “Hells, if Dire Bane came back to us, I’d be first in line to join up. But if imp ships were being taken like you say, we would have heard about it. It would be the talk of half the empire.”
“He’s got a point,” said another prisoner named Biscuit Bill. “I was sailing on an imp ship not two weeks ago. Dire Bane being back, there would have been long talk amongst the crew, but I heard nothing.”
“Because they’re covering it up!” said Vaderton. “That’s why they put me here. So I couldn’t tell anyone.”
“Maybe they put you here as punishment for losing your whole crew, like you said.” Bill looked to the others for support, and they nodded.
“No, that’s not how the navy works,” said Vaderton. “If I was being disciplined, they would have put me in an imperial prison, not here on this… biomancer stockyard.”
That shut them all up. Nobody liked to be reminded that once a week or so, a biomancer came with a small squad of imperial soldiers and took someone away. On his first night, Vaderton watched an old woman get taken. She screamed and begged them to kill her on the spot. One of the soldiers knocked her unconscious with the butt of his rifle and they carried her to the lift. As far as Vaderton knew, there were two ways off the Empty Cliffs. Biomancers or death. Many nights he had stared over the edge to the waters far below and wondered if it might not be better to throw himself over the side and be done with it. He knew better than most that death was a mercy compared to becoming a biomancer experiment. But God help him, he wasn’t quite ready to die yet.
