‘Thank you for seeing me, Master Tellius,’ Lady Forza said.
She wore jewelled earrings, he noted, as he kissed her in greeting. Rather fine-quality rubies, like tears of blood. He had desired such symbols of wealth for much of his adult life, though mostly because breaking them up and selling them meant he could live warm, that he could eat and work uninterrupted in the little workshop he’d owned. He tried to remind himself that it had been a lord much like Lady Forza’s late husband who’d forced the sale of that shop, rather than letting him manage the debts at a slower rate. Tellius had barely hung on to the attic above it and made a second life for himself, of a sort. He had certainly not bathed then as often as he did these days, though the thought was not without a strange sort of regret.
‘Dear lady, I am only sorry I can’t do more for you,’ he said.
He took a seat across from her and tried hard not to show how intrigued he was by the box. She knew very well what had brought him back to see her, of course. That was why she had risked her family heirloom on the open streets. It explained why he’d seen guards in Forza colours on the grounds as well. Favours had been called in, which made it all the stranger. Tellius found his curiosity prickling. He was surrounded by interesting women. As curses went, it was not such a poor fate.
‘Oh, I know you think I am just a daft old hen, Master Tellius,’ she said.
He began to protest, but she held up her hand and tutted at him, her eyes bright with amusement. He had the uneasy feeling that she had somehow heard his earlier comment to Morbon. Was that possible? Of course it was. He cursed himself and flushed.
‘Mine is a wealthy house, Master Tellius. I do have a few little items of use to me.’ Her hand flicked one of the earrings, making it swing. ‘My late husband never spoke of our … advantages, but you see? I trust you now with that knowledge. I came to Lady Sallet with just the vaguest of fears that first time. I was impatient – at my age, impatience is not such a strange thing. If you scried and saw Darien destroyed, would you not act? Would you sit and drink tea in a blaze of late autumn sunshine and do nothing about what you had seen? Or would you seek out the house with the closest connection to this strange new boy-king of ours?’
‘Lady Forza, I am sorry if I have not taken your warnings seriously. The very fact that you have brought your house stone here makes me re-evaluate your intent. Does that satisfy you?’
The old lady closed her eyes in relief. She sagged slightly as she sat there, as if even her straight back was an effort almost too much to bear. It was an instant of weakness, present and gone, as she straightened once again. Yet he had read her and he bit his lip once more.
‘My lady, how long do you have?’
In reply, she smiled, so that her eyes almost vanished.
‘I was told you were sharp, Master Tellius, just like Win. She wanted me to prove I was serious. She wanted me to bring this stone, or she would not have made us both sit through our previous meetings. Oh, do not look so surprised, Master Tellius. The lady who shares your bed is as cunning as her figure is baroque. I would be astonished if she could not hear us now. But wait, here are my bona fides.’
She picked up the red box and passed it to him. He saw the weight was a little more than was comfortable. He liked her in that moment and wished he had not been such a fool before. Already, the previous meetings belonged to a different life. Lady Forza had revealed herself and he in turn to her. Their eyes met as he took the box and he nodded, sealing a pact that needed no words.
He opened the box and gazed on a red stone the length of his outstretched hand, rounded on one side and flat on the other. It was flecked with gold that drew the eye deeper, just as the Sallet Stone did. Tellius had some sense of what it was and he saw his breath mist the surface in quiet awe.
‘It is very beautiful, Lady Forza,’ he said.
‘Thank you, I have always thought so. It is … Now wait a moment, dear. I suspect the lady of the house …’
Lady Forza looked to the door as it was opened by two servants. Lady Win Sallet swept in, her dress making a swishing sound on the carpets.
‘Lady Forza, I am so sorry. I have treated you with less courtesy than you deserve. I have many calls on my time, but I did not understand this was one of the important ones. Please accept my apology. Speak now and I promise you, I will listen.’
The old woman looked in surprise from Tellius to perhaps the most powerful woman in the city. She nodded to herself as if she had confirmed something she’d only suspected before.
‘How lucky you are,’ she murmured a little sadly. ‘To have found one another.’
Lady Sallet took a seat, smoothing the folds of her dress when they threatened to rise up before her. She did not even glance into the Forza box. Lady Forza had acted with honour and trust. No further confirmation was required after such an extraordinary gesture.
‘Please call me Win, Lady Forza.’
‘In that case, dear, I would like you to call me Elizabeth.’
The two women smiled at one another. Tellius shut the box lid with a snap, making them both jump.
‘You spoke before about a vision, Elizabeth,’ Tellius said. Neither woman replied and Tellius sensed a slight coldness. ‘What? Am I to call you Lady Forza, then?’
‘Tellius, Elizabeth and I are equals,’ Win said. ‘As widows, we are the heads of two of the Twelve Families of Darien. Please understand this.’
Tellius let a beat of time pass. Had he been a young man of twenty or even thirty, he knew he might have stormed out, provoking them both with some acid comment that would take days to smooth over. As he was some years past sixty, however, he took a deep breath and mastered himself. It was perhaps the only comfort of old age, that understanding of what mattered – and what truly did not. Half the battles fought by young men were as forgettable as breakfast.
‘Of course. Please go ahead. I will do my best not to shit on the carpet.’
He closed his eyes in frustration. Apparently, he had learned nothing over the years.
When he opened them again, Lady Forza was holding a cloth to her mouth and her eyes were streaming. Win looked mortified. Tellius sighed and shook his head.
‘I am sorry, Lady Forza. I forget sometimes that the language of the street lads is not heard too often around here. It was my error. I will excuse myself.’
‘No, please stay,’ Lady Forza replied. ‘I said you were a sharp one and you are. My husband would have enjoyed that. Now, let me tell you what I have learned.’
She leaned forward, though a slight wince crossed her face as she did so.
‘Are you so ill?’ Win said softly.
Lady Forza chuckled.
‘How well you suit each other. Yes, dear. My doctor tells me I will not see another spring. My son, Reno, is ready to be head of Forza. I do not doubt he will call on you at some point, to introduce himself. Until then, I remain the voice of my house. Now, no more interruptions, Win! If tea should happen to arrive, I would not say no, however.’
Lady Sallet rang a tiny bell and passed on the order to the servant who entered. Lady Forza began to speak as the doors closed once more.
‘I came before to see the king, when I still believed poor Johannes was the voice of the throne. When he died and the city came under attack, I thought that was surely the disaster I had seen. Yet the dreams kept coming. It is true, I am old woman who is rather unwell. It was not so strange to be disturbed in my sleep. Yet I saw a great dark liquid splash against the walls of this city – and rise over it, like a wave crashing against the shore. I thought first it was the Aeris legion attacking the walls, but it is two years since that terrible night and still they come. I began to take the family stone to bed with me, to rest under my pillow. I have had some success with it in the past, when it came to advising my husband in his investments.’
‘One rumour confirmed,’ Lady Sallet murmured.
The older woman inclined her head.
‘As you say. It was never reli
able enough for certainty, but I was right enough times to build a great fortune. The Forza are the richest family in Darien as a result. I say this not to be immodest, but to establish my own history. In my family, when I have a strong sense of the future, we listen.’
She looked from one to the other and seemed satisfied by their attention.
‘I cannot say what form the threat will take, but I saw snow and trees in ice. I feel danger threatening and I think it will be this winter.’
‘Not the next? Or the one after?’ Tellius said.
Lady Forza shook her head.
‘I will not see the next winter, Master Tellius. I believe it has to be this one, before you, and my son, know spring again.’
She took a deep breath and clenched her jaw, so that he could see tiny sparrow muscles move beneath the skin.
‘Open that box again, Master Tellius. I have trusted you both with the honour of my family by bringing it here. I will not hold back now from the rest. Give me the stone.’
Tellius glanced at Lady Sallet and saw her hesitate and then nod. They both knew the family stones were sources of power, though few others in the city shared that knowledge. The Forza Stone Tellius lifted out was, in its own way, as dangerous as any artefact of power. It may have been centuries, even millennia, since the stones had been properly understood. So they believed. It occurred to Tellius that such knowledge might have been guarded as jealously as every other secret in Darien. He formed the thought as he passed it into the gnarled hands of Lady Forza.
She cradled it like a child almost, holding the thing in the crook of one elbow and stroking it with the other hand.
‘It gives me comfort to touch it, you know,’ she said, almost dreamily. The sharpness in her voice had gone and she looked younger and less anxious than before. ‘To know my mother and father touched it, and all my sisters and brothers. We all put our hands on this, just as my children will when I am gone. Perhaps they’ll feel my love for them when they do. I hope so.’
‘What do you wish to show me?’ Lady Sallet said softly.
The question seemed to bring the old lady back to where she was. She sat up and nodded.
‘If you would both touch the stone with me, I swear you will not be harmed. It is the only way to see what I would show you. For you to know I have not lost my mind, at least not yet.’
Lady Sallet’s expression had hardened.
‘You ask a great deal, Elizabeth,’ she said. ‘Hold a moment, while I summon my personal guard.’
‘It is unnecess …’ Lady Forza began, then gave up. It was not her decision to make, not in the Sallet estate. In moments, two swordsmen in lacquered green armour had entered the room. Tellius was only pleased Win had not summoned the enormous figures known as Sallet Greens, who had played a vital part in the defence of the city two years before. Those monsters remained in their silent rooms by the outer gate, waiting for her most loyal servants to step into them and bring them back to life.
The two who entered showed no surprise to be called, though Tellius saw them look for a greater threat to their mistress than one tiny old lady in a dark red coat and glittering rubies.
‘Lady Forza has asked us to place our hands on the stone of her house. It is a great honour,’ Lady Sallet said to the two men. ‘However, if something should go wrong, it will be your task to save my life – or to avenge it. Is that understood?’
Both men nodded and drew their swords. They took up a stance that was passive, but ready to strike in a number of directions. Tellius vowed to make no sudden movements until those men had been stood down. He had no desire to lose a hand that morning.
Lady Forza seemed unperturbed by their presence. She rested the stone on the red cloth of one sleeve and touched her fingers of the other hand to the polished surface. Without another word, Lady Sallet did the same.
Tellius watched her eyes unfocus and her breathing grow shallow, before he put his own hand beside Win’s. He had been ready to knock the stone aside. It was strangely hard to reach out and touch the thing. In that instant, it reminded him of meat, but then his hand was on it and he felt its slickness and a surprising warmth.
Lord Ran shook his head in rising anger, at himself, at the madman who called himself Gabriel, at the blood of innocent men running through the gutters as the rain intensified. The king’s seneschal was dead, with half a dozen clerks who had tried to come to his defence. Royal guards had come running at the sound of fighting and Gabriel or Thomas or Sanjin had killed them.
With the pillars of the gatehouse ahead of them, passers-by ran with squares of bamboo held above their heads, or wax-silk umbrellas if they were of some noble house. They scurried in fear, not daring to look at the wolves who had come amongst them.
Gabriel seemed either unaware of the rain, or was somehow revelling in the touch of it. He stood in the street with his face raised slightly and his eyes closed. He had let the young lady’s hand go and she stood trembling, her dress soaked through. Yet she did not try to run. There was a beatific expression on Gabriel’s face, though it was not peaceful. Lord Ran dreaded the moment he would open his eyes once more.
Ahead of that small group, armoured ranks of swordsmen waited in a silent line, bristling with weapons. Word had spread quickly of violence on the street. Cries of alarm had gone up and raced ahead of them. Like a portcullis coming down, the way forward had been blocked. No man could approach the king’s personal quarters with a red blade and rain streaming off him. Not Lord Ran, not the king’s most trusted friends and family. The commander of the royal guards had decided to stop the strange group there and apologise later if he had overreached.
Lord Ran breathed through pursed lips, almost a hissing sound to match the lackwit staggering along with them. It was the right decision.
Thirty-six men faced them in the narrow street. Lord Ran knew the Mazer swordsmen trained in twelves, so that they could split into groups of three and four and six and two without a moment’s hesitation. It simply gave them more formations than groups of ten. He shook his head to clear it, wondering if he could use the sound of the rain to cover his retreat and just creep away. He did not want to be part of whatever was coming.
Lord Ran glanced over his shoulder and his heart sank. More men were jogging up behind them in full armour, carrying shields and drawn swords. Rain was a cruel foe for steel, Lord Ran knew very well. Every swordsman there would be furious at having to draw a blade in the wet. Hours of oiling and drying lay ahead of them. Yet Lord Ran could see arrogance in the way they stood. This was merely duty, some group of peasants running mad with stolen swords. Not one of them considered the little group a true threat.
Lord Ran swallowed. There was no retreat for him. He realised he was going to die in that place. His only chance was to drop to the stone road and pray.
Gabriel opened his eyes. He flicked rain off the sword he held with a jerking motion. It shone with oil as he turned it, watching drops bounce and scatter from the steel.
‘Put up your blades,’ an order came. This guard captain was one Lord Ran knew. The man had won a laurel for himself – and promotion – in two city contests.
‘You are under arrest for unlawful killings, in the king’s name. There will be no further warning. Lay your swords on the ground and live to your execution. Or die here, in the rain.’
The man’s voice changed, becoming gentler, as if he sought to persuade.
‘Come on. Whatever it is, have your moment in court to say your piece. Don’t make me kill you.’
‘Sir, please!’ the young lady said, her voice breaking. ‘I am a prisoner.’
Gabriel smiled. Thomas, who had been blind, stood on his left. Sanjin, who stood with a puddle of red water around his half-foot, bared his teeth, his hair like rat’s tails. The last of them made his hissing sound, as if he laughed through missing teeth.
‘We fought every day, for the passage of ages,’ Gabriel said. ‘And I am … faster now. Come on, sir, if you wish. Test us.’
<
br /> The officer shrugged.
‘Take them,’ he snapped.
Lord Ran threw himself down and covered his head with his hands. The young woman shrieked in terror and dropped into a crouch. Before and behind, rows of swordsmen charged the tiny group who stood against them.
Tellius was on the wall of Darien, with a great gale blowing hard against him. He looked to his right and left and saw Win and Lady Forza. Each of them was whipped about and tugged by wind that roared in their ears, too loud to hear anything else. He had always loved a good storm, but this was unnatural, as if some great movement of land had collapsed, moving a thousand miles of air in the direction of the city. The wind filled him hard with every breath, so that he had to close his eyes and lean into it.
‘There! It comes!’ Lady Forza called.
Tellius opened his eyes once more and felt his testicles try to creep up into him. A black wall stretched across the horizon, so that the city at his back seemed suddenly small and vulnerable. The wave rose and rose and there was thunder in it as well as the gale.
In an instant, the storm winds had gone and yet the wave remained. He stood with his gaze rising and rising until he saw the wave would not break before it reached the city, but would pass right over them. They would be washed away as if they had never been.
‘No,’ he said, but it was just a breath. It could not be stopped, any more than death could be stopped. He knew it in his bones.
The base of the wave stripped the ground as it came, dragging up the stones of the road. They stained the darkness like a ribbon creeping up its surface. Tellius took Win’s hand as it reached them – and they were gone.
He snatched back his hand from the Forza Stone as if he had been stung. Win too had pressed fingers to her lips like a little girl surprised by nettles. Lady Forza was more controlled, but she nodded to them. She handed the stone over and Tellius was reluctant to touch the thing again, then ashamed, so that he held it in a tight grip and put it into its box. He sensed the smell of salt and seaweed in the air as he touched it, so that it was hard not to flinch. He did not want to see that again.
SHIANG Page 9
