The King of the Crags

by Stephen Deas

  “Forgive me if I don’t rise, Night Watchman.” Jehal smiled as pleasantly as he could bear. “I seem to be inconvenienced in that respect.”

  “I wish you a full and speedy recovery, Your Highness.” Vale’s face was as flat and unreadable as it always was.

  “I’m sure you do. You know what? I think I might get up anyway. I think I might like to take in the view from the Gatehouse.” And why did I say that? Now I have to walk across a quarter of the palace and climb more than a hundred steps, which I’m clearly not capable of doing.

  Vale offered his hand. Jehal waved it away and struggled to his feet on his own. The Night Watchman’s face didn’t change. “If you like, I can put one of my men at your disposal to help you.”

  Bastard. “No, thank you, Night Watchman. It is not as bad as it seems.” And now I have to get to the Gatehouse all on my own. Still, it is going to be worth it.

  Vale gave a deferential shrug. “I am inclined to applaud, Your Highness. It is wise to exercise an injury as soon as it is ready.”

  “I do not require your applause, Night Watchman. If you wish to help in that regard, you can send some of your very fine whores to my bed.”

  “Ah, that I could, but Speaker Zafir has commented more than once that overexertion may simply mean you take longer to heal, Your Highness. In that particular regard, I have heard rumor that Prince Tichane is looking after your interests and doing so very well. I won’t pretend to understand what that is supposed to mean.”

  “Really?” Vishmir’s cock you don’t. But you don’t know that I’m watching her. You don’t know about my little mechanical dragons. In fact there’s rather a lot you don’t know . . .

  Vale gave a nonchalant shrug. “Perhaps that means he will be supplying ladies to your bed when you are well enough to enjoy them.” He smiled faintly. “Or perhaps you used to have some whore and now he’s looking after her for you. Such things are hardly my concern so I give them no thought.”

  Jehal fumed. “Night Watchman, if I ordered you to be still so I could hobble over and break your nose, I suppose you’d comply without hesitation?”

  “My nose is of little value to the realms and has been broken many times before. Consider it yours.”

  “Then I shall treasure it like a gem.” And cut it off one day. “If I’m a prisoner, I shall simply return to my tower. I wouldn’t wish to embarrass you.” His eyes narrowed and he watched the Night Watchman carefully. “I’m sure I seem harmless enough, but you never know quite what might happen if you allow one of your prisoners to roam. I might roam to your brothel and overexert myself or something equally terrible. Who knows—I might push someone off a balcony.”

  The smallest flicker of a shadow crossed Vale’s face. That was enough. Inside, Jehal smiled.

  Vale turned away. “The speaker has not withdrawn her order regarding your confinement, but she has since ordered Jeiros and the alchemists to care for you as best they can. We shall call this exercise a part of your rehabilitation. I shall escort you myself.”

  “Very kind of you.” Jehal found he couldn’t resist. “But are you sure you can spare the time? You look like you’ve just got out of bed.”

  “I apologize if my appearance troubles you, Your Highness.” They began to walk toward the Gatehouse. “The tension in the realms has grown a great deal of late. I have been busy.”

  Walking across the Gateyard and climbing the steps to the top of the Gatehouse ought to have taken a few minutes. By the time Jehal got there, he’d spent the hardest half-hour he could remember. He was soaked in sweat, his leg was in silent shrieking agony and he was ready to collapse. The Night Watchman didn’t say a word, didn’t offer to help. It was almost as though he understood the necessity of what Jehal was doing.

  He smelled Shezira before he saw her. The cages where she and Valgar hung were not far from the gates, suspended from huge poles. There wasn’t much left of either of them but it was a warm day and the wind wasn’t in the mood to spare Jehal’s nose. By the time he reached the top, he was ready to retch. He made himself stand and stare at them both anyway. Somehow he found it satisfying. In a sort of I’m-alive-and-you’re-not kind of way.

  There was a third cage too. The man inside was . . . Ancestors! He’s still alive. Barely. “I see you’ve strung up another one. What did this one do?”

  Vale pursed his lips. “Hasn’t Jeiros told you? That’s Prince Sakabian. He lost twenty-five of the speaker’s dragons to the traitor queen and had the audacity to survive. Then he was witless enough to return with his tale.”

  Jehal’s lip curled. “Zafir would prefer he’d died or never returned, and her twenty-five dragons had simply disappeared into the mountains without a trace, would she?” Twenty-five! What a blow! She must be desperate! He tried to hide his glee. Desperate was good. Desperate was very good. “And Almiri did that? Good for her. If a bit stupid. Let me guess, she’s demanding a trade. The dragons Zafir seized on the Night of the Knives for the ones Almiri now holds at Evenspire.”

  “I wouldn’t know.” Vale’s brow furrowed. “Why did you come up here, Prince Jehal?” He seemed genuinely surprised, even a little pitying. You’re slipping, Vale. At least now I know how things stand.

  “You think I’m going to be out there in a cage of my own soon, do you?”

  “I cannot read the speaker’s mind, Your Highness. I simply obey the orders I am given.” Oh but you want me out there, don’t you? Just like you wanted Shezira out there. You’re going to be in for such a disappointment.

  “Actually, I didn’t much want to come here. I wanted you to come here. I wanted to watch you here, seeing this. That’s why I came up here.” Yes. Such a disappointment. And now the fun starts.

  “I see this every day, Your Highness.”

  “And you’ll see it every day for weeks to come and I’m sure there will be more. But from tomorrow you’ll see it in a different light. I know why you wanted Shezira dead. I know you let her go to Hyram to try and make some sort of peace with him when you should have confined her to her tower.”

  Vale didn’t flinch. “Shezira had already gone to Speaker Hyram when my men reached her tower.”

  Jehal cocked his head. “That is a lie, Night Watchman.”

  “That is the truth, Your Highness. The lie comes from whoever told you otherwise.”

  “No.” Jehal laughed. “No one told me otherwise, Night Watchman. I saw it for myself.”

  Vale’s turn to laugh. “You could not, Prince Jehal. You were far across the palace in the Tower of Air. You could not have seen what you claim from there.”

  “Is that so?” Jehal’s grin spread across his face. “I’m afraid you are much mistaken, Night Watchman. I had eyes all over the palace that night and not all were men. I came up here because I have something to show you.” Slowly, he unwrapped a strip of white silk from around his wrist. “I know you can keep a secret, Night Watchman. This is a treasure that the Taiytakei gave to me for my wedding, and that I, in turn, gave to the speaker as a sign of my devotion and my trust.”

  He held out the silk. Vale looked at it, obviously puzzled. “Forgive me, Prince Jehal, but I don’t understand. What are you showing me?”

  “A piece of silk, Night Watchman. Tie it across your eyes. I would sit down first, if I were you. Disorientation is a common first experience.” He watched Vale hesitate. “I’m hardly in a position to run away.”

  The Night Watchman laughed. “Run away? Prince Jehal, I wouldn’t put it past you. I’m more concerned at receiving a knife in my ribs.”

  “I’m not really a knife person, Night Watchman. When I have an enemy to deal with, I prefer to watch them build their own pyre and then linger powerless on top of it for a while while I play carelessly with matches beneath.” He gave Vale a toothy smile. “Put it on. You’ll see through the eyes of... of something else. I will not tell you what.”

  Slowly, the Night Watchman put the silk to his eyes, although he held it with his hands and didn’t tie it
. He didn’t wobble or stagger either. Impressed? I suppose I have to be.

  “What do you see?”

  “An eyrie.” Vale took the cloth away from his eyes. “Drotan’s Top. From the top of Hyram’s Tor.”

  “Yes, you did. And on the Night of the Knives when I put that silk to my eyes, do you know what I saw? I saw you, Night Watchman. I saw you let Shezira go when you should have seized her.”

  Vale paled. A crack in your armor at last.

  “Yes, Night Watchman, I really did see it all. You let Shezira go.”

  “It was for the good of the realms.” His voice had gone husky.

  “Didn’t really work out that way, did it? Do you want to know something else? It might make you feel a bit better. After all, this is Zafir’s toy, not mine. I’m imagining she saw everything too.”

  “She never said.”

  “She never said anything about you disobeying her direct order? It did all turn out rather nicely in her favor.” Jehal shrugged. “Mind you, letting Shezira go was clear disobedience and I think we both know that our speaker doesn’t take too well to being disobeyed. Maybe she wasn’t watching after all. I’ll ask her, if you like.” He cocked his head in mock surprise. “How interesting that might be. Tell me, Night Watchman: did every single witness among your men die that night?”

  “No, Prince Jehal, they did not. I do not waste my own men. They are posted where they will do no harm.” Vale sounded like he was chewing on gravel.

  “Good for you.” Jehal smiled. “Now shall I tell you something else?” He nodded over the wall toward the cages. “I saw Hyram go over the balcony with the same eyes that saw you betray your speaker. Shezira never touched him. You beheaded an innocent queen.”

  “I followed the speaker’s orders.”

  “You should really make up your mind, Night Watchman. Are you a guardian of the realms with a sacred duty to preserve our peace and our way of life? Or are you a man who does as he’s told, no matter what fool gives him his orders?” Jehal snorted. “But no, we both know you can’t even do that right, can you?”

  Vale’s face didn’t change. “Should I tell Master Jeiros about the blood-mage who comes to see you, Your Highness? It would probably be wise to consider his advice.”

  Jehal shrugged. “Why not tell the speaker as well?”

  “I imagine she already knows.” He shrugged. “We are the Adamantine Men, Your Highness. We trace our traditions to the earliest days of the Embers. We were the first to rise up against the blood-mages because we had nothing to lose. We were their fodder, their unwilling sacrifices to the dragons. The Embers of today may choose their way, but the first Adamantine Men did not. The alchemists guard the realms against the dragons now. The dragon-kings guard against the alchemists, the speaker guards against the dragon kings and we guard against them all. We are the last resort, Your Highness. We guard against tyranny. It is a precarious balance at best. People like you are anathema to me. Tell the speaker whatever you wish.”

  Jehal stared at Vale as he finished. “You actually believe that, don’t you?” He hauled himself painfully to his feet. The Tower of Dusk felt a very long way away, but at least the stairs from the Gatehouse would be easier going down. “I think I would like to go back to my prison now. You can go first. Make sure you’re ready to catch me. I wouldn’t want to accidentally slip and break my neck. Oh, and I think, on reflection, I shall go elsewhere for my whores. No offense, Night Watchman, but I would prefer to be a little more certain of their qualities.”

  Vale went wordlessly down. Jehal sat on the top step and slid down from one to the next. Which hurt and made him look like an idiot, but he simply didn’t have the strength to do anything else. At the bottom the Night Watchman walked away and Jehal watched him go.

  First blood was to you, Vale Tassan. But now you see what is coming and I promise all the other victories will be mine. Every single petty little one of them, until tormenting you is simply a bore.

  First things first, though. He would see if this blood-mage could deliver on his promises. And after that there was the little matter of heirs and whether he could still father them. Or at least enjoy trying.

  36

  THE ISLANDS

  The dragons flew for three more days, out across the sea, until they found land again. Kemir had no idea where they were but he’d never been so happy to see a bare stretch of sand in his life. He lay flat on his back, stretching muscles that he hadn’t known he had.

  We are hungry, Snow said. She dropped the half-dead dragon-rider a hundred yards down the beach. Then the dragons took off again. The wind of their wings blasted sand into Kemir’s face but he didn’t notice because by then he was already asleep.

  He woke up as the sun was sinking toward the horizon. Stiff as a board again. With creaking joints, he got to his feet. He had no idea where he was. With Sollos, he’d traveled most of the realms. They’d been to the edge of the stone desert to the north of Outwatch. They’d traveled on the backs of dragons over the endless dunes of the Desert of Sand and the white, flat, lifeless expanse of the Desert of Salt. They’d whored and fought their way through the hills around Evenspire and the swamps and moors of the distant east. They’d traveled the length of the Worldspine from north to south.

  But I never crossed the sea. He sat up and looked at the sky, blue and clear. Waves rustled softly at the edge of the sand, swishing back and forth. A gentle breeze blew, soft and warm. A hundred feet the other way, away from the sea, the sand rose up into rolling humps. Dunes covered in long spiky grasses. Beyond that, trees. Lots and lots of trees.

  Trees meant game and game meant food. It would be dark soon and he was hungry. The dragons had been gone for hours. He picked up his two bows and went over to the dragon-rider. She hadn’t moved. She was conscious though. Could have killed him in his sleep if she’d had the presence of mind to get up and do it. Except when he peered closer he wasn’t sure she had the presence of anything much anymore. Her eyes rolled up into her head. She moaned and groaned and had no idea who he was. Probably had no idea who she herself was either. By the looks of her, she wasn’t going to last for long. Not so useful after all.

  There was a little stream running down the beach. Kemir followed it a little way inland and found a pool. He drank and then brought back some water and tipped it down her throat. Strange thing to do to someone you planned to kill. He mulled over doing just that, slitting her throat here and now while the dragons were away. He wasn’t sure whether he wanted to do that because she was a dragon-rider, or whether it was some sort of daft jealousy. In the end he put the thought away. Instead he did his best to make her comfortable and fed her some more water.

  “Sorry,” he whispered in her ear. Sorry for what he wasn’t sure. For all sorts of things, probably. For what he’d done, for what had happened. For what would happen later.

  Then he looked out to sea and his mouth fell open. The dragons were there, maybe a mile out. They were easy enough to spot. And they weren’t alone. He watched as one of them seemed to drag something through the waves toward the beach, flapping its wings furiously, almost but not quite lifting whatever it was out of the water. After a few seconds, the dragon let go and shot up into the air, only for another to take its place. Kemir watched as they came closer.

  It had to be another dragon. Maybe one that was hurt. One with a broken wing. Although if it was, they were being none too gentle with it.

  I don’t see any wings. Don’t they put down dragons with broken wings? But what else can it be? A sea monster? Whatever it was, it was black and bulky and about the size of a small hunting dragon although with no wings and without the long tail or neck of a true dragon.

  The dragons were getting closer. As they saw him, Snow tipped her wings in greeting. Food! Food, Kemir! We have brought food! Giant fish!

  Kemir’s jaw dropped. It was a whale. They had a whale.

  The dragons splashed and floundered in the water, dragging the whale up onto the beach. Great go
uges had already been ripped from its flesh, and yet it wasn’t quite dead. Kemir kept well away as the dragons finished it off and then tore it to pieces. They’d all been days without food. The sight of it made him him both hungry and sick at the same time.

  He walked back to the pool and washed himself. When he returned, the dragons were sprawled in the sand. One of them belched. Half the whale was gone.

  “I see you left some for me.” He wrinkled his nose. The air stank.

  We will stay here now, Kemir. There is enough to eat.

  “You’ve only got half a whale left. You’ll be hungry again in the morning.”

  This will satisfy us for days if we do not fly. If we grow hungry, we shall simply hunt more. In all my many lives, I have never seen the sea with my own eyes. It is not so bad after all.

  Kemir nodded. The stench was getting worse, strong enough to make him gag. “You enjoy yourselves then. I’ll go hunt something more my size.”

  I feel your hunger, Kemir. You may take from our kill.

  “I’m honored.” He wasn’t sure that he particularly wanted to, but an offer to share food was a meaningful thing among outsiders and to refuse was often an insult. Maybe dragons were different. Or maybe not. “Right then. Honored then. Like I said.” Disgusted as well, but not disgusted enough to offend something that could squash him flat without really noticing. With a sigh, he drew out one of his knives and tried to work out how best to approach the whale. Most of its head was missing, so it was a choice between its tail and its belly, where it had been ripped open and its innards scattered across the sand.

  “Tail,” he decided. “When it comes to whales, we humans like the tail bits best.” Especially when it’s the part that’s furthest away from all that . . . mess. He held his breath. He’d hunted and killed and eaten animals all his life, but never one whose corpse he could actually walk inside.

  Snow was laughing at him. You have never even seen these creatures before. You have barely heard of them.