by Rob May
‘We’re splitting it fifty-fifty, right?’ I called down to him.
‘Seventy-thirty!’ he laughed. ‘Kal, we’ve already agreed on this!’
* * *
By twilight, we were sitting atop a cliff with the sound of the surf crashing beneath us and gulls squawking overhead. Ben had spread out his travelling cloak on the damp grass, and we were making a point of picnicking on every last morsel of our supplies. Tomorrow we would be dining in Amaranthium.
We had circled around to the east of the city, and from the headland we had a view over the patchwork of fields that lay outside the walls. Another wall, about half as high, and a moat protected the farmers. Between the walls, and before the great East Gate, there was a cleared area of ground that was lined with rows and rows of twenty-foot-tall statues: warriors with spears, shields and visored helmets guarding the road into the city.
‘The Field of Bones,’ Ben said, following my gaze. ‘The statues are in honour of a legion that marched out to battle an invading horde of monsters and never returned. They were slaughtered, right down to the very last man.’ He gave a wry smile. ‘Just one of the happy events in the city’s history that drove my ancestor, King Aldenute—the last ever king of Amaranthium—to suicide.’
‘It’s exciting!’ I said, standing up and taking in the views across the sea and city, breathing in the fresh, salty air. ‘Seeing your stories made real, Ben. Slaughter! Suicide! Heroes and monsters … what’s so funny?’
Ben was watching me, shaking his head in amusement. I went to him and brushed the crumbs out of his beard and tried to straighten his wild hair. He was a mess. ‘If you don’t fix yourself up,’ I said, ‘they’ll never let us in. They’ll think that you are a monster, come to sack the city.’
‘We can’t enter by the main gate,’ he said. ‘They won’t let us in.’
‘What? Why not?
‘The city is closed to non-residents. You need papers—the right documentation. People in the city are assessed every year, and anyone who doesn’t come up to scratch—doesn’t earn a wage or pay their taxes, basically—gets kicked out. I’m sure if I knew the right people I could get us some fake papers, but …’ Ben spread his palms.
I sat back down on our makeshift blanket and turned my gaze to the sea, waiting. I didn’t bother trying to think of a solution to our dilemma; I knew Ben would already have a plan; a crazy scheme based on something that he had heard in an old legend. And sure enough …
‘My father’s favourite gory story was about the time when monsters were inside the city walls, and all hell was breaking loose on the streets. Aldenute was worried about his daughter, the princess, so he went up to her chambers to make sure that she was safe. As he approached her door, he heard screams within. So he drew the Blade of Banos and kicked the door down …’
I couldn't help myself. I just knew he would be doing all the actions too. And yes, when I turned, Ben had his ancient sword out and was waving it around.
‘The king burst in to find his daughter covered in blood, and a naked man standing over her with a knife. Without hesitation he decapitated the intruder and ran to the princess. She was in shock—covered in blood but unhurt. She couldn’t speak; all she could do was point to the corner of the room.’
When Ben pointed over my shoulder, I actually looked around. How could he still manage to get me like that!
‘Curled up in the corner was a dead man-sized insect: a carniclaw that had managed to tunnel up under the palace. The king, in his panic, had killed his daughter’s lover, who had actually saved her from the beast.’
I exhaled in delight at his story, shivering at the morbidity of it all. ‘Very good, Ben. But what are you suggesting? That we dig a tunnel into the city?’
‘No,’ Ben said, jumping to his feet. ‘We don’t need to. Because my father told me something else … the accident was hushed-up on the king’s orders. The tunnel entrance was blocked and concealed, but the tunnel itself, Kal … the tunnel is still there!’
END OF PART ONE
PART TWO
THE MURDER
II.i
Little Dragon
Kal opened her eyes. For a brief moment, the smile remained on her lips as she remembered her dreams. Then harsh reality came crashing back into her head: the robbery! She groaned as she got out of bed. Today, Kal was going to have to do the one thing that she hated doing—she had to go and beg Ben for help. And the worst thing about it was that Ben would just smile and say, ‘No problem!’ and Kal would feel even more wretched and helpless. It would be just a loan, she promised herself, until she and Zeb got back on their feet.
Until, Kal swore, the day she caught that goddamn King of Thieves …
A blaring, parping sound cut through her thoughts. Kal dragged herself to the window and stared out over the square. It was twilight on Midsummer Day, and a band was starting up on the stage. A girl was emptying her lungs into a trumpet, while two lads were smashing away at metal-strung citterns. Another girl tried to keep the racket in order by banging out a relentless rhythm on a snare drum. The stage had been constructed with a domed wooden cover, that not only amplified the sound, but was seemingly specially designed to focus it directly at Kal’s bedroom.
She pulled all the windows shut and tried to gather her thoughts, but an insistent knocking at her door put paid to that. Now what? Kal didn’t have any friends who were apt to just drop in on her, so she was immediately on high alert. Wrapping herself in a dark blue silk robe, and picking up a dagger from her table, Kal went and opened the door to her apartment.
The woman standing in the corridor outside wore a steel breastplate with the twenty-four stars of the Republic picked out in brass. She carried a heavy wooden staff with a metal tip. A lictor! The personal bodyguards of senators used their staffs to physically move crowds out their masters’ path.
‘The senator is waiting outside for you, Miss,’ the lictor said.
Kal mentally kicked herself. She had forgotten! On top of everything else she had to deal with today, she had a date …
‘Give me five minutes!’ she said, and slammed the door in the lictor’s face. Kal went to her basin and splashed some water on her face. Luckily she had already planned her outfit in advance: she took it down from where it was hanging in the corner of her room and squeezed into it. Must cut down on the kebabs! she told herself.
Five minutes later, Kal opened her front door and stepped out. The lictor raised an eyebrow, but otherwise did a pretty good job of maintaining a professional composure. Together, they went down four flights of narrow stairs and emerged into Satos Square. Kal followed the lictor as she used her staff to encourage the crowds to make way.
A carriage was waiting; it was painted black with gold trim, and was pulled by two well-groomed black horses. The lictor held the door open and Kal hopped in. Taking up almost all of the space inside was Senator Ganzief Greatbear, dressed in a gold cloak and crown.
‘Kal!’ he boomed, eyeing up her costume. ‘You look incredible!’
Kal kissed the large man on his hairy cheek as she took her seat beside him. ‘Thank you, Senator. And what are you supposed to be?’
‘Oh, some old king or other.’ Greatbear tapped on the roof of the carriage, and the horses set off at a smooth four-beat gait. ‘I am very sorry I am late, Kal—I had pressing business at the senate house.’
Kal sensed that something was up. ‘On a public holiday?’ she asked him.
‘After last night’s fiasco, I was hoping to spend all day relaxing, eating and drinking,’ Greatbear replied, ‘but I got wind that some of Felix Firehand’s supporters were trying to pass a motion that would mean your friend Zeb Zing could be turned in for questioning at the Cut before her trial.’
Kal felt sick. The Cut was Amaranthium’s underground prison, and the kind of questioning that went on down there usually involved hot irons. ‘Has Zeb been arrested?’
‘Not yet,’ Greatbear told her. ‘But Firehand has been looking f
or an excuse to crack down on what he calls dissolute and amoral gambling in the city. If he can close the Snake Pit and make Zing disappear, he will.’
‘And did the motion get passed?’
Ganzief Greatbear laughed. ‘If it had been put to the vote, it would have. But I used my great seniority in the senate to make a long speech about the right to a public and fair trial—a very, very long speech, ho ho ho! I was barely warming to my theme when the sun hit the marker. I have bought you time, Kal, if you want to save your friend, but not much time.’
Kal knew what he was talking about: there was a marker on the back wall of the senate chamber, and when the rays of the setting sun reached it, then it signalled the close of business. It was a custom that had resisted the onset of mechanical clocks. ‘Thank you,’ she said. ‘I owe you one.’
Greatbear patted Kal hard on the knee. ‘Anything for my little dragon,’ he purred. They sat in silence for a time as the carriage continued up the Kingsway, the longest street in the city, that ran all the way from the East Gate and up Arcus Hill. It was hot in the carriage, and Kal felt trapped—trapped in this ridiculous costume on the way to a stupid party where she would have to mingle with rich, dangerous, devious people. Why had she ever agreed to this? She promised herself that she would get away from it all as soon as she could.
The carriage crossed the Flow by Lovers’ Bridge. The bridge got its name from a story that, every time she crossed it, reminded Kal of the conflict that ran through the city’s history. Several hundred years ago, two young lovers from opposite sides of the city had held illicit midnight meetings on the bridge. The girl was a Firehand, from Arcus Hill, and the boy a Witchwood from the East Bank. Two powerful families; one with aristocratic blood, the other self-made; and between them, a simmering hatred that would end in tragedy.
When the patriarch of the Firehand family discovered the lovers in bed together, he had both of them put on trial on the spurious charge of adultery, since his daughter was engaged to another at the time. Their punishment was still talked about today. Tied naked to one another, they were laid on the mattress that they had once shared, which was then rolled up and wrapped in chains. The mattress was then carried to the bridge and dropped into the deep, dark water.
As Kal stared down at the river, the surface was lit up with the reflection of the night’s first fireworks, and she flinched as the bang shook her out of her thoughts. The carriage left the bridge and started up the hill, past the temples and banks, towards the Forum, but then turned off into the wealthy residential areas. It was only up here that Kal realised how fresh the air was. Back down in the city, the smell of sewage and people was so pervasive that it soon seemed normal.
The mansion that they pulled up in front of was the largest on the hill, a giant domed square with columned porticos on all four sides. It was set apart on ten acres of private gardens, which tonight had been strewn with multicoloured lanterns. As the carriage crunched to a halt on the gravel driveway, Kal and Ganzief could hear music and laughter emanating from the house. The fat, bearded senator turned to Kal with an excited grin on his face. ‘Sounds like quite a party,’ he said. ‘And from what I have been told, this house is a den of debauchery. Have you ever met Benedict Godsword before?’
‘I’ve never even heard of him,’ Kal said as she stepped out of the carriage. Up on top of the hill there was the faintest stirring of a breeze, and the party guests mingling under the portico turned to gape as Kal’s wings fluttered out behind her. Her skintight costume was covered in glossy black scales, and as she walked her tail dragged in the gravel and her long claws hung at her side. Men and women dressed as soldiers, gods and ghosts stepped aside as Kal swept up the steps. She ducked her gaze so that only the shining red eyes in her elaborate headgear met the stares of the other guests.
On Midsummer Night its time would come, and a monster would stalk the city for the first time in half a millennium.
II.ii
Monster Ball
Ben had bought this house a couple of years ago, but Kal had not yet had a chance to look around inside. Kal and Ben’s relationship was a secret, usually conducted deep underground in a hidden cave: the senator and the adventurer, each taking advantage of the benefits that their discrete alliance afforded. Kal operated outside of the law by which Ben was bound, but Ben’s influence could open doors that Kal often found closed to her. Together they played a game of power and money that provided them both with a good life.
Tonight though, all matters of circumspection were out of the window. Kal was here as the legitimate guest of Ganzief Greatbear and, by the looks of it, Ben had thrown open his doors to people from all walks of life in the city. Kal had seen the great playwright, Terence Deadhand and his wife Alcya—Amaranthium’s most famous actor—stroll in ahead of her, both of them dressed as fantastic colourful birds. Kal would fit right into this crowd, even dressed as a dragon.
The ground floor of Ben’s mansion was open plan, and designed purely for meeting and entertaining guests. In the centre, a square pool of shallow water filled a courtyard that lay at the bottom of a light well. All four sides of the house were open to the gardens: plants and shrubs had been brought inside, and statuary and stone benches filled the terraces outside. As a result it was hard to tell where the grounds ended and the house began.
In a corner, a trio of young musicians were playing dulcimer, harp and lute. The dancefloor was crowded with senators, merchants and other influential folk, all dressed in outrageous costumes. Among them flitted young men and women who were barely dressed at all, although Kal guessed that they were supposed to be the gods as depicted in paintings—wearing short white togas and gold sandals. Kal spotted thin, bony Senator Grey, who she had seen last night at the Snake Pit, dancing with a girl half his age. Kal swore she recognised her as someone who worked at the Cathouse downtown. Kal wasn’t one to judge, but Grey was a man who was standing for consul in the upcoming elections. Maybe she should go and rescue him.
A short man dressed as a goblin stepped up with a tray of drinks. Kal took a glass: it looked like white wine, but it seemed to be bubbling. She sniffed it, suspiciously. ‘That is called frizzanti,’ Greatbear explained as he caught up with her. ‘It is the latest thing! They bottle it early so it keeps fermenting under pressure.’ Kal shrugged and took a big swig. The bubbles went up her nose and she choked and laughed at the same time.
‘That,’ she pronounced, ‘is not a serious drink!’ She tipped it away into a nearby potted lemon tree. ‘Can you get me something else?’ she asked the goblin. ‘Anything else!’
The goblin just looked at her dumbly. Kal kneeled down and stared at it closely; the costume was convincing. Very convincing …
Kal gasped. She stood up and scanned the party. ‘Where is he?’ she seethed.
Senator Greatbear took her arm and guided her across the dancefloor to an alcove opposite, where Benedict Godsword stood chatting to bald Raelo Redrake. Ben was dressed in costume armour and had his arm around a lissome blond girl with a short pixie crop and large green eyes; she appeared to be dressed as a princess. Ben was swigging sparkling wine straight from the bottle. He looked up as Kal and Greatbear approached.
‘Benedict Godsword,’ Greatbear proclaimed, ‘allow me to introduce Kalina Moonheart, Dragon Killer!’
Ben seemed flustered when he saw Kal standing before him, wings outspread. ‘Good gods,’ he spluttered, ‘you’ve got a hell of a nerve coming here dressed as the monster that killed me!’ He laughed and patted his armoured chest. ‘Tonight I’m Banos, you see! Nice to meet you, Kal. I’ve heard so much about you.’ He nodded at the girl he was with. ‘This is Nim. She’s—’
‘Goblins, Ben?’ Kal interrupted furiously. ‘Really?’
‘They’re good little workers!’ Ben said defensibly. ‘And they wanted to come and work for me!’
‘Did they?’ Kal snapped. ‘Did you ask them? What did they say? Mwaaarrgh?’
Ben’s smile remained fixed, but his
eyes were wild as he looked around. People nearby were staring at Kal as she became more and more animated. Ben put his hand on her arm to calm her. ‘Kal, you must see my gallery; I have this amazing painting of the Dragon that you’ll just love. Come on!’ He made his excuses to his friends and dragged her away.
Kal looked back to see Nim’s wide eyes stare imploringly back at her as Ganzief Greatbear moved in for the kill.
* * *
Ben’s gallery was a long, high hall on the first floor. Away from the bustle of the party, it was quiet and cool. Ben sat Kal down on a bench in front of the largest painting. She gazed blankly at the scene: a dark-haired girl with a golden spear, fending off a terrible black dragon.
Ben sat down next to her. ‘Are you alright, Kal?’ he asked. ‘You look troubled. Raelo told me about what happened at the Pit. If there’s anything I can do …’
‘I need money, Ben,’ she sighed.
Ben frowned. ‘Of course,’ he said. ‘I can give you a little to get you back on your feet. Hey, how did it go getting those documents signed yesterday?’
The documents? She had almost forgotten. ‘Oh yeah, I got them. Then I lost them. Sorry! Ben, but I need more than a little—we need to pay off all the people who lost money last night, or else Zeb is going to be thrown in the Cut.’
Ben paced back and forth, anxiously rubbing his neatly-trimmed beard. ‘Don’t worry about losing the documents,’ he said. ‘They’re worth less than nothing in the wrong hands. But, Kal, I can’t spare any money at the moment to help you and Zeb.’
Kal looked up at him in surprise. Ben was her last hope. The bitter disappointment made the sarcastic part of her come back out: ‘Did you spend it all on this party?’
